


Aftermath

by Wonko



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Episode Related, F/F, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 02:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: After the fire at the factory, Charity brings Vanessa home.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> A little scene continuing the episode aired on August 1st.

It was close to ten o’clock when they finally left the hospital. Tracy was finally asleep, medicated and - for now anyway - free of her grief, guilt and pain. “He saved me,” she’d kept saying, over and over again before the doctors had eventually sedated her. “He’s dead because of me.”

Vanessa was quiet on the drive home, eyes fixed on the horizon as town turned to suburb and then to countryside. Charity reached over and grabbed her hand between gear changes, squeezing as tight as she dared.

Neither of them made any move to leave the car when it pulled up at the Woolpack. Charity shut the engine off and listened to the soft clicking sounds of the cooling car, Vanessa’s hand limp in hers. She risked a look, her heart clenching at the sight of her fiance’s face. She looked hollowed out, wan, like a cut flower that had been neglected and starved of water.

“Shall we go inside?” she asked after another few moments of quiet. “I’ll make you a brew.”

Vanessa blinked once, then again. “I’d prefer a vodka.”

Charity nodded. “Whatever you want babe.”

She let go of Vanessa’s hand just long enough to get out of the car and come round to the passenger side to open the door for her. Vanessa allowed her to help her out of the car without complaint, trudging zombie like towards the side door of the pub.

Noah was in the living room, coke and crisps on the coffee table, telly on showing an old episode of Family Guy on ITV2. He clicked it off as soon as the door opened, springing to his feet almost guiltily. “I put the kids to bed,” he said. “Couldn’t manage the baths though.”

Charity pulled him close to her in a loose, one-armed hug. “Thanks,” she said, then cocked her head towards the door. “Best head up yourself now, okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, then hesitated. “I’m really sorry about your dad,” he said at last, then blushed and left the room in a rush before Vanessa could react.

Charity smiled sadly. “Heart of gold, that one. Deep down. Very deep.”

“Reminds me of someone,” Vanessa murmured absently, then abruptly pushed off in the direction of the bar. When she returned moments later she was carrying an unopened bottle of Smirnoff and Charity had already got two glasses out of the kitchen cupboard. Vanessa slumped down onto a dining room chair and poured a double measure into each glass.

“You gonna add a mixer or- no, okay, down in one,” Charity said, quickly following suit with her own drink. It burned going down and brought tears springing to her eyes. She shook her head roughly, blinking hard to chase away the sting. Vanessa was already pouring another measure.

“Cheers,” she said dully, then tossed back the second drink.

“Hey, slow down babe,” Charity said, grabbing Vanessa’s hand as it reached for the bottle again. “We’ll be back at that hospital getting your stomach pumped at this rate.”

Vanessa just shrugged. “Don’t care,” she mumbled, already beginning to slur her words. Charity wondered when she’d last eaten. She’d come into the pub at lunchtime - had she actually eaten anything then? No - she winced - because Charity had immediately press ganged her into service behind the bar. So it had been all day, a good fourteen hours or so by now. Add shock and grief to the empty stomach and it was no wonder the vodka was having an immediate impact.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat, babe, okay?” Charity said, rising from her chair and taking the bottle with her. Vanessa immediately grabbed Charity’s untouched second drink.

“I’m not Noah,” she slurred. “You can’t feed me sweets and make it all okay.”

Charity ignored the brief stab of pain as the barb found its mark. “No, I was thinking a bacon butty for you actually,” she said. “Extra crispy, and heavy on the HP sauce.”

Vanessa sipped at Charity’s drink, her eyes unfocused. “Don’t think I could eat anything,” she said.

Charity shrugged, reaching into the fridge for the packet of bacon. “Let’s just see how you do,” she said.

It took about ten minutes to get everything ready, including a mug of weak, milky tea with a lot of extra sugars. Charity set the plate and mug in front of Vanessa and removed the now empty vodka glass. She did some mental calculations - three double measures in the space of about fifteen minutes… Years of working in a pub told her Vanessa would be pretty close to unconscious soon. She headed back to the sink and rooted through the cupboard until she found a pint glass that she filled with water from the tap.

“Just try and eat a little bit,” she said, returning to the table. She placed the water down next to the tea. “Then we’ll get this water down you and put you to bed.”

Vanessa glanced up, frowning in Charity’s general direction. “I’m not a little kid,” she protested, but picked up the bacon sandwich anyway and gave it a desultory couple of bites. She managed about half before dumping it back onto the plate and reaching for the tea instead. “You finish it,” she mumbled. “I’ve had enough.”

Charity didn’t protest, secretly surprised she’d managed to get Vanessa to eat anything at all. She finished off the sandwich without tasting it, then quietly washed up the plate and cup.

“Come on,” she said gently when she was finished. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Vanessa allowed herself to be led upstairs, but when Charity tried to steer them towards their bedroom she stopped, shaking her head. “I want a shower,” she said. “I smell of smoke.”

Charity nodded slowly. “We both do, I bet,” she said. “Mind sharing?” Vanessa shrugged, which Charity took for acquiescence. 

Once inside the bathroom, Vanessa stripped off quickly and mechanically and was under the spray before Charity had even removed her shirt. Charity collected up her fiance’s discarded clothes and tossed them into the hamper, following suit with her own in short order. She stepped into the shower and reached for Vanessa, finding her standing silently beneath the spray, her eyes closed. “Just you stand there,” she murmured, just audible over the sound of the water. “I’ll take care of you.”

She soaped up her hands and ran them gently over Vanessa’s shoulders, spreading the suds down her arms, over her back, across her torso. Her touch was delicate, like she was dealing with a frightened animal liable to bolt at any second. After rinsing the soap away, she grabbed the shampoo and made quick work of Vanessa’s hair, washing away the remnants of smoke and tiny particles of ash that had collected there during that terrible half hour when they’d all stood helpless as the factory burned to the ground and Frank breathed his last.

Charity closed her eyes, her brain treating her to a slow motion replay of Frank emerging from the burning factory, looking relieved and happy. And then the explosion, forcing him from his feet and tossing him across the courtyard like a ragdoll. The half second of silence and then that terrible scream ripping free from Tracy’s smoke damaged throat.

She opened her eyes and shook her head, deliberately pushing that image away. She couldn’t afford to think about that now - she had Vanessa to look after, and that was what she needed to be concentrating on.

After taking two minutes to wash and rinse her own hair, Charity shut off the water, wrapped herself and Vanessa in towels, and steered her towards their bedroom. Vanessa silently allowed her to dry her off, then dress her in sleep shorts and a vest top before pulling back the duvet for her. 

“He used to do this, when I was little,” she murmured as she climbed into bed and allowed Charity to tuck the duvet up around her chin. “Before he left I mean. I always wanted him to put me to bed. Me mam just wanted my teeth brushed and me down with no fuss. Dad used to read me stories.”

Charity smiled sadly as she climbed into her side of the bed and gathered Vanessa up in her arms. She felt light in her embrace, fragile, like she might break. “What stories did he read you?” she asked softly, pressing a kiss to the damp hair on the top of Vanessa’s head.

“Miffy books - d’you remember them? Little rabbit thing.”

Charity nodded. “Yeah babe,” she said. “I had one of those, I think. Think it was about her going to school or summat.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said. “He used to do silly voices and change the words sometimes, to see if I’d notice. I’d get so worked up, yelling at him to read it properly.” She laughed, but before the sound of it had left her throat it had transformed into a sob, her whole body heaving and aching with the force of it.

Charity pulled her close, heart aching, her hands rubbing helplessly at her back as she murmured a stream of absolute nonsense into her ear. Honestly, what was the use of telling her it would be all right? Or that she was there for her? She cursed herself for having nothing better than meaningless platitudes and cliches to spout, for being so bad at this, for the inevitable let down she was going to be. “I’m sorry babe, I’m not much help am I?” she muttered.

Somehow, those were the words that broke through Vanessa’s rough sobs. She pulled back lightly, sniffing hard, eyes bloodshot and dark. “Just hold me,” she murmured. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” Charity whispered fiercely. She brought her hand up and cupped Vanessa’s cheek, rubbing her thumb across it to gather up her tears. Vanessa closed her eyes, sighing softly. Leaning forward, Charity fluttered a gentle kiss onto each eyelid, her lips then trailing down over Vanessa’s cheeks, tasting grief and salt. “Never,” she said again, tucking Vanessa’s head under her chin as fresh tears began. She closed her eyes and breathed deep and slow. “Never…”


End file.
